Chapter 5: Chapter 4 – The Smell of Hope

Fadelio looked over to his left, to the bearded southerner he would have to entrust his life to soon. Atau was armed with a stern look on his face and a heavy axe in his right. They had also fashioned improvised shields, a fancy term for wood planks, out of the donkey cart they had arrived on. Fadelio held onto his own, and increased his grip around the tightly bound leather strips. Then he looked out ahead, towards the golden light of morning which washed into the narrow cave.

After they had spent the night on top of that hill, they had packed up before the break of dawn and made their way here, into Fastgrade's secret stash. Once Brym had led them into the hidden cave, concealed halfway up the steep hillside, they had been blinded by the treasures on offer. Barrels upon barrels of Fastgrade's finest, the best selection of wines in the southern states. Behind it, they found precious gems, jewelry and most of all, gold. An entire chest's worth of coins, hundreds of them, thousands even. They were the last reserves the old man had laid aside for a rainy day. Despite the sunshine in his front, it very much felt like a rainy day to Fadelio. Their tail might have been shaken for a while by their fast disappearance, but they would soon follow their steps. This was what the duke had been after, the last treasure of the Fastgrade merchants.

Finally, the flies deemed themselves ready to show their faces. First came the smoke. A dark cloud flowed inside the cave and obscured the ceiling. His master had been right: In fear of an ambush, they had truly tried to smoke them out of the hideout, but had failed. The smoke stopped some ways above his head, before it began to flow back out of the opening up top. At this point, the duke's men only had two choices left: Either siege the cave and wait for the trapped merchants to starve, or get it over with and storm. Confident in their numbers and equipment, they had chosen the latter.

“On the name of Duke Herak of Balit, come out and hand over what is rightfully his! No harm will come to you! You have my word!” a raspy voice came from within the sunlight.

“You want our stuff? I've got a nice bit of metal for you right here! How about you come and get it?”

He could feel Atau's sarcasm wash over from his left, but he wouldn't laugh, and he wouldn't look. He was ready to fight, focused on the silhouettes which had appeared from above, their backs lighted by the sunshine.

“In that case you will learn how the Duke's men handle rebels! Charge!” the rough voice began to shout, answered by the war cries of his companions. Finally, the flies left the light as they stormed down the cave entrance. Finally, Fadelio could see them.

Same as before. Swords and chain mail. No ranged weapons. Small, thin. Easy.

The warrior turned his left foot forward, bent his knees and waited for the charge to hit his shield. The cave entrance was long and narrow, only enough for two men to fight next to one another, but they had to be careful. A few steps back and they would be pushed into the cave proper, where there was enough room for the duke's men to make use of their numbers.

As he thought about their plan, the screams in his front grew louder and louder, until a heavy impact exploded on the plank of wood and traveled up his shoulder. The cheap plank bent and splintered, but it didn't break. Good enough. With his heels dug into the sandy ground, the warrior halted the charge and pushed forward. Another shout rang from across the shield, this time tinged in surprise, not blood lust. Despite Fadelio's size, the men hadn't expected this level of resistance. How could they know that three of the four remaining Fastgrade merchants were cultivators of the highest grade?

Brought off his balance, the soldier had to halt the sword thrust aimed at his enemy's flank and stumbled back, desperate to steady himself. Without mercy, Fadelio swung down his axe. The soldier's eyes grew large as he saw his impending doom draw close, yet he was in the air, falling back into the sand, and incapable of reply. The heavy crunch of metal on bone and the soft resistance in his palm told Fadelio that the axe head had landed with precision and caught itself on a rib cage. Even if the man was still alive, he wouldn't be a threat any more.

A scream rose from his left, to match the one in his front. Not a voice he was familiar with. Seemed like the southerner had done his duty too. The duke's men had thought their work easy. After all, they had the higher ground and they could storm with speed, but in their arrogance they had dismissed their opponents, critically so.

“Back, back!” the raspy voice screamed from the entrance. Two of the remaining soldiers slid forward on the uneven ground, towards the two bleeding companions who were crawling back. They confirmed that the merchants wouldn't pursue before they dragged their screaming companions back out into the sunlight. Fadelio clicked his tongue in annoyance. He wouldn't be able to finish them off for now. Holding formation was more important.

“Eight left,” Fadelio said to his left before he spat on the ground. These weaklings were nothing. He could take down as many as he wanted.

“Don't forget the plan, mountain troll. The next wave won't be this easy. They're not that stupid.” The voice from his left was as annoying as it was right. Fadelio had no time to answer though. Again, the duke's men were coming. This time, they were more careful. They moved in slowly and stayed at a distance, poking at their shields.

The improvised protection was barely enough to help them hold against a charge. Already, holes and sprains had opened up within the wood. Worst of all, the swords of their foes were much longer than his axe. Now the soldiers could take their time and try for gaps in their defense, until they landed a hit or destroyed the shields. A storm up the hill would be suicide, so it wasn't an option. Neither was a retreat into the cave. With how careful the men were now, they would never storm in all at once, which was what Corco had been betting on. Luckily, Gerrit Fastgrade had stocked his secret cave well, for many eventualities. A sharp bang came from his right, followed by the stinging smell of gunpowder.

With a scream, the soldier to his front stumbled back onto the ground. Corco retrieved the matchlock rifle from Fadelio's shoulder and retreated back into the cave, no doubt to reload.

No need, Fadelio thought with a look at the duke's men.

Finally, they were angry enough to attempt a second charge. Again, two men stormed ahead, down the narrow entrance, and rammed against their shields. Again, he was pushed a few steps. This time however, he had no time to steady himself and hit back. Another impact followed soon after the first, to push him further, and then another. By the time the warrior had managed to halt his movements, he had been pushed most of the way into the cave. In anger, Fadelio swung his axe past his tattered shield. He only hit the air. The careful soldiers had stepped back fast to open up the distance again. Once again, they began their poking, like the annoying flies they were. Both Fadelio and Atau to his side were only a step away from opening up the path into the cave. Just one step and the soldiers could surround them.

Three down, still seven left.

They wouldn't stand a chance at seven to three. It turned out that the soldiers were well-familiar with battle. Even losing three of their own hadn't dampened their morale. It had only made them more determined.

Can't take them like this.

Unwilling, Fadelio followed Atau, who had already begun their planned retreat, and also took a step back to keep up.

“Drive them back! One more push!” again, the raspy voice, maybe their leader, shouted from behind the soldiers. Fadelio's eyes glanced up, at the cloth spanned over the entrance, as he waited for the signal.

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“Retreat!” He heard his master's shout from behind. A leap back and then another one. Suddenly, the two warriors had opened a gap between themselves and their foes. At the same time, he could see the construction they had erected above the entrance in full. Cheese cloths had been fastened there with rope and he saw Brym to the side, pulling the rope's end to release the contents. Just in time, the ropes loosened and unleashed a white cloud upon the charging soldiers. It was the last thing Fadelio saw before he turned around and closed his eyes.

“Cover up!” He heard someone shout from his front. Corco maybe.

Almost forgot!

He grabbed the cloth around his neck and put it over his mouth and nose. No use in a weapon that hurts our own, he thought. Right after, the men behind him started to call out as well. However, their shouts were of a much different nature. He could hear the flies flailing and falling over one another, accentuated by a chaos of voices. First it was only shouts of anger and confusion, but soon they transformed into piercing wails of terror. Blind himself, he did his best to stumble forward, away from the deadly powder, into the back of the room. To his right he could still hear Atau stagger along. Good, they had both made it out.

“It's fine, open your eyes.” After what felt like an eternity, he could hear a voice of comfort in his front. Slowly, he opened his eyes and found his master Corco before him, gesturing back towards the entrance with his head. Fadelio turned as well, to survey the damage they had done. Behind him, within the settling cloud of white powder, the soldiers of the duke were still screaming. Their desperate wails and curses filled the cave as they stumbled around, lost and blind, in search for salvation.

“We should finish this” Atau's voice, muffled by cloth, came from his right. He was already outfitted with their final piece of special equipment. Corco had cut the final bits of cheesecloth into strips. They would wear them over their eyes like blinds. After all, they would have to protect themselves from the monstrous weapon they had unleashed over their enemies. Fadelio grabbed the blind his master held towards him and soon had covered his eyes. The world turned dim, only silhouettes were left. Still, it would be enough for the kind of fight they were about to have.

With short steps, to make sure he wouldn't trip on the uneven ground, Fadelio marched ahead, until he discovered one of the wailing shadows before him. All he had to do was bring down his axe. And another. And a third. Soon after, the shadows had become ghosts, and the screams had stopped.

“There's still three outside,” Fadelio said, as he fumbled his way forward, towards the blob of light within his vision. They had to be thorough. If they let just one of the men get away, it would mean that the duke would hear word of their battle all the sooner. It would also mean less time for them to get away before they had to deal with an army. Once Fadelio could feel the rising ground beneath his feet, he knew that he had once again entered the cave's narrow entrance and, relieved to be rid of his bindings, removed the cloth from his eyes.

With his eyesight regained, he looked back and saw the corpses. Seven of them, lying there with warped limbs, covered in white powder like freshly fallen snow, as their blood slowly formed paintings around them and bubbled up into a pink foam. A cold shiver ran down the warrior's spine, an emotion he was thoroughly unfamiliar with. From across their handiwork, his eyes met Atau's, and he saw the terror written within them. He had to agree. This wasn't a weapon they should use. At the very least, he knew that he wouldn't be crazy enough to have another fight anywhere near that stuff.

However, there was still work to be done, so the warrior shook off his fears and marched away from his massacre, back out into the sunlight to commit another one. Once he emerged from the darkness, he held up his blood-stained hand and the what little remained of his shield to protect his eyes from the golden rays brushing over the distant hills. The grass around him swayed slowly in the morning breeze, which did its best to drive the smell of death from his body.

Once his eyes had adjusted, he could see the remaining soldiers the duke had sent to rob and kill them. Two of them were leaned against the rocky outer walls of the cave, which were jutting out from the grassy knoll behind him. The soldiers groaned in pain as they each pressed onto their wounds. The final one lay on the ground, unconscious or dead, his left leg attached to his body by little more than a thread. As the two conscious men saw him look at them, their cries of pain stopped as they widened their eyes in panic. Fadelio marched two secure steps and lowered his axe again, onto the one he thought unconscious.

Better to make sure.

When his bloodstained face swerved back up to the remaining two, their paralyzed bodies finally began to move again. In panic, they pushed off the rock wall and scrambled to get away. The first had been caught at the hip by Corco's shot, so his attempt was short lived. As soon as he put some pressure on his body, he once again collapsed in pain, as his waist gave in and dropped him to the floor. Fadelio went over his enemy and swung again, without mercy.

One left.

He looked over to the running silhouette halfway down the hill, then down to the trail of red which had formed in the grass between him and his target. Again, the warrior marched towards the rising sun. The final man was the first he had met in the fight, the one who had opened the charge. Earlier, Fadelio's axe had caught the fly's chest with a solid hit. He wouldn't make it very far. No long after, the warrior was proven right.

As he crossed over another hill's crest, the sun returned and once again it managed to blind him. Still, through the golden glow he could see the silhouette hunched over by the single tree which had claimed this elevation for itself. Fadelio took a heavy breath to steady his beating heart and strode towards the shadow, which slowly turned back into a human, terrified of his impending death.

“No, please! Let me go!” He heard the man beg and saw the tears and snot run down his face, his breathing ragged in his panic. He was out of options, so this was the best he could do to save his life.

“I'll never do it again. Please. I will take my family and run far, far away. You'll never see me again!”

Finally, the warrior had followed the red trail to its end and stood over the fly. Wedged in between the old, deformed tree and the giant beast, the cold of their condensing shadows made the soldier shiver. His quivering voice had turned into a whisper.

“Please. I'll be forever in your debt. Just... just don-”

Without mercy, the heavy steel swung down to end the man's begging, and his life with it.

“Pathetic,” the warrior said with a frown on his face, “you could have died like a man.”

With an unsavory crunch, Fadelio pulled out his weapon one final time for the day. Axe shouldered, he looked over the hills and towards the sun. The grass and earth around him were soaked with blood, shimmering like liquid gold in the rays of sunlight. The smell of iron was all around him. It smelled like hope.

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